


Alone

by Tommyboy



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyboy/pseuds/Tommyboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has been seriously hurt, and Napoleon must help pull him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

Napoleon stood at the end of the bed. It had been four days, or five, he couldn't remember at the moment. And now time stood still as he waited to see if Illya, for the hundredth time, it seemed to be the one teetering on the edge of death. How many times could he go through this? How many times did he have to witness his friend and love come so close? But this time it had almost been by his hand that he had died. He was scared. Scared to touch him. Scared that Illya would remember what had happened.

Doctor O'Neill entered the room, on the dot of the hour, making his rounds. He checked gauges and lights, nodding and humming. Napoleon was thinking he did it out of annoyance. But knew on any other day he would joke with him. The doctor turned and eyed Napoleon. "Standing there will not help. Talk to him. Read to him. Let him know you are there."

Napoleon looked at the doctor. "Fred, you don't know what happened out there."

"I know that he is your best friend, and that the only thing to bring him back is to have you pull him back." Picking up a book that April had brought by. "Read this, let him hear your voice. Napoleon, this is the most serious I have ever seen him in and I've seen him bad. But this time, I can not do it alone." He laid the book down on the bed and went to the door. He looked back to see that Napoleon had not moved. With a heavy sigh he left the room. He could only hope that Solo could work through his demons to save Kuryakin's life.

Napoleon stood there watching the monitors that his friend was hooked up to. Heart, respirator, ekg, things to show that he was still alive, barely, but still alive. He moved to sit in the chair next to the bed and looked at the book. Slowly he opened the cover and read the title page out loud. Getting more comfortable, Napoleon moved to take Illya's hand in his and started reading the opening line.

* * * * **  
Mr. Waverly walked through the medical section. It had been two weeks since Mr. Kuryakin had been brought in with the serious gun wounds. Now it was time, time for him to heal, time for him to decide if he wanted to live. With Kuryakin in his coma, that also left Mr. Solo into a void in himself. It had been by Mr. Solo's hand that Mr. Kuryakin was in such a state. Through Mr. Solo's report, Illya had been thrown into the middle of the room when the shooting started. Mr. Kuryakin was caught in the crossfire.

Mr. Waverly could only hope that with such a situation, the victim's memory was delayed in its memory. However, there was no way to erase the episode from Solo's mind.

Walking up to the door that was to Kuryakin's room, he found Mr. Solo reading out loud. Over a week now, he sat there reading to his partner. It took some persuading by April and Mark to a let them take a turn with Illya to get him out of the room. During the night, Napoleon slept in a cot, not trusting to leave the room.

Mr. Waverly knew there was devotion between the two. How deep that devotion he did not know, however he suspected ran deep. And if that were true, then this would be the hardest thing that his two best agents would have to over come.

He stood there for a few minutes, listening to Napoleons voice, the candice making him feel better. He could only hope that the young man in the bed was listening too.

* * * * * *  
Pain. His back hurt... His leg hurt. Someone stop the pain.

The black fog he had been was slowly easing to let him feel. He wanted the black fog. He felt better not seeing, feeling. But the black fog slowly lifted leaving him in the new void. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to move a muscle.

In the background he heard something. Thinking hard, he tried to rise above the pain. Napoleon. He heard Napoleon. He was reading something. Something he knew. He tried to keep the pain down as he tried to reach for the words. He was reading a classic, Treasure Island. He knew the story, he tried to stay with the words, the voice. He wanted to call out to him, tell him he was there but the pain held him in check. He could only hope that Napoleon would be his beacon.

* * * * * *  
O'Neill saw the changes, slight but there. Illya had made some improvement. He made his daily routine examination. Soon, soon Illya would be coming around. Twenty one days of hell. He could only hope that Illya would come back to them.

Checking reflexes, there were slight tremors in his good leg. He lightly tickled Illya's foot. It reacted with similar tremors. Soon, Illya would soon be back to them.

* * * * * *  
Opening the book to page fifty of Moby Dick. Napoleon was started reading where he had left off. It had been two days since O'Neill had said that Illya was improving. He wondered if the doctor was on something. He hadn't seen anything from his partner.

Napoleon started to read. He had read ten books, working on the classics, knowing that Illya would understand them if he heard him. But today Napoleon was having a hard day dealing with the situation. He closed the book and looked down at the man he called his friend.

"I can't do this, I can't do this any more." Napoleon said out loud.

Within Illya he was feeling content, hearing Napoleon read to him. When Napoleon stopped, Illya fought to do something, to show that he was listening.

Napoleon sat forward, taking Illya's hand in his. "You have to come back. I love you damn it." Napoleon swore. "Don't leave me hanging." With a deep breath Napoleon started to stroke the hand that was in his. "I need you by my side. I'm nothing without you, my Russian wolf hound. I trust no one but you to watch my back, to give me advice. Over the last few years I have given you so much of myself that till now, I didn't know I had given you the key. The key to my heart, my soul."

Illya heard the confession, the one he had wanted to hear.

"I love you Illya." Napoleon whispered. He moved closer to Illya and brought his lips to the soft pliant ones of his partner.

With surprise the kiss was slightly returned. Napoleon drew back and found Illya's eyes open.

"Illya?"

Illya moved his lips. Napoleon heard a slight sound.

"Easy my friend." Napoleon poured a glass of water and found a straw. Bringing it to his lips, Illya sipped the refreshing drink.

Napoleon knew that soon the doctor would be there, he knew that Illya's room was being monitored.

"Welcome back."

"Had to," Illya whispered, "Couldn't leave you alone."

Doctor O'Neil followed by a nurse, came into the room. "It's about time you decided to rejoin us Mr. Kuryakin."

"Needed the rest." Illya answered in a weak voice.

"Napoleon, please step outside while I examine Illya."

Napoleon looked once more to Illya, seeing the blue eyes concentrating on him. With a squeeze to his hand, Napoleon reluctantly released it. "I'll be just outside."

Illya nodded, his energy waning, but a slight smile on his face as Doctor O'Neil started his examination.

** ** **  
Leaning against the wall, Napoleon closed his eyes. Illya had returned. There would be demons to face, he knew, but Illya knew that he loved him and that would be the key in getting through this.

He loved Illya.

A kiss was all it took.


End file.
